From the End to the Beginning
by c-eclectic
Summary: The Wizarding World is under a lot of mistaken impressions. They say all things dark are evil. They say that the Dark Lord has been defeated once and for all. They say the Founders died a thousand years ago. The Founders weren't dead at all, in fact, they didn't exist yet. History can be rewritten to win a battle, but whether or not the war can be won only time will tell.
1. The End of the Beginning

The first order of business: I own nothing pertaining to Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling is in charge.

Second, I have not attempted to write fanfiction in a long time, I did have an account some time ago with a few stories posted, but I deleted them because of a flamer and the fact I was a fourteen year old girl. There were many more positive reviews, but I had felt I had lost track of my main story, which if memory serves to be correct was called "The Life I Once Lived". Anyway, I took the very basic core of that story (and I mean basic, like one fact remains the same) and revitalized it into this one.

Third, I tend to be a bit meticulous about research, and I am trying to make this story as accurate as possible, based on both the canon J. K. Rowling has set up and the historical accounts of the time. Obviously, there will be some artistic license, and if you have questions I will do my best to explain them in the next chapters. Now, even though I do my best to research, there is a fair amount I have to come up with on my own. I may draw upon fanfiction that I read years ago rather subconsciously. If you feel credit is due to someone else for a particular idea, please let me know. I probably will not remember reading the story and it was certainly not my intention, but there you go.

**Warnings:** There are times when this may become a bit gory. Also, there are going to be references to suicide and child abuse. I'm not going to make it extremely graphic, but all the same. I'll try and give a heads up about particular chapters.

**Additional Notice:** I have way too many footnotes., and the formatting isn't what I'd like on them, but such is life. I'm really fanatical about research. I had like two pages of notes at the end of this chapter so you can skip that if you don't want to know all the details. I include them though because I think it's interesting to have background information. Also, not Beta'd, all mistakes my own. Tell me about them if you see them!

So I think that's everything that needs to be said at this moment. If you have any questions feel free to ask. On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter 1: The End of the Beginning**

Truthfully, I can no longer see it amongst my bitter regrets. What happened to the joy in the world? We were children once, so long ago; bright and carefree and too young to become so tarnished by the grip of war. War after war came, or perhaps it was the same war, raging unchecked for a thousand ages, from the beginning of all things unto the ending of the world. The blood was always the same, and the faces were always too young. Pain and betrayal and all-consuming hate were always there, spewing forth just as much as the blood on the battlefield.

I will admit, looking down at my hand where moments before it gripped an ornate dagger, this was the last thing I expected. There was supposed to be poison running through my veins, blood dripping from my wrist, and a stone floor beneath me. I felt drained and disoriented; my life force was considerably weakened, which was both my greatest relief and utmost agony at once. After all it meant I had succeeded in my plans. However, what had me confused was that through the dim lighting I was looking at a thin bony wrist with slight bruising, but definitely no sign of a cut.

The place I was in was familiar in a sort of foreign way. I remembered being here long ago, but the memory was hazy and unclear. As my eyes adjusted further I spied a single broken toy soldier in a dusty corner. I looked around and saw a few of his fallen comrades in the opposite corner next to a bottle of bleach. With a swoop of realization, I remembered where I was. No, it couldn't be possible! Why, after everything, would I be _here_ again?

"Get up! Get up! Now Boy!" came shrilly through the door.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning. Then again, this sort of _was_ the beginning, wasn't it?

* * *

A very long time ago, nearly a thousand years, a man walked into a small stone building towards the very end of the alley. He was here for a meeting with the Goblins; they were close friends of his and allowed him shelter in this bank and archive from time to time. Despite all the benefits of keeping a bank account, very few of the Wizarding community had accepted the Goblin initiative. Most people mistrusted the very idea of storing their money and precious heirlooms outside the home, and the fact that the keepers were not human put them off even further. Thankfully, he had no such qualms

"The arrangements have been made then?" he asked of the Master Goblin.

"Indeed, though I wish that you might reconsider. You bring us great wealth, Wizard." replied the wizened Goblin. The Man_*1_ knew that the Goblin meant more than tangible riches when he gave his response. He smiled gently, once you were a Friend of the Goblin Nation, they became very protective and loyal. This particular Goblin he had known for quite some time, and the two had immense respect for each other. Though the Goblin had a scholarly look about him, he was as agile as any hunting predator. If one looked closely they would see prowess the Goblin had gained as a result of wielding twin _Bladbochts*2_, slightly curved weapons rather like the szablas, or sabres, of East Europe and even further into the continent of Asia.

"No, I must do this, it is the only way. Her continued security and prosperity is all that matters, for she guards something far more precious than gold." The Man answered, looking determined. The Goblin sighed; he knew there was no changing the Wizard's mind now. The Man had not been this alight and resolved on reaching a goal for a very long time, or perhaps this goal was not accompanied by the same feverish attempt and subsequent failures. It struck the Goblin as ironic that now, at the end of his days, the Man was more alive than he had been for two decades.

"But you mean to sleep eternally tonight?" the elder Goblin pressed, looking concerned for the only Wizard that he would willingly call Friend. They had fought together both on the battlefield and on the political courts, and despite it all this Man had remained as selfless as the day they first met. This was the basis of his parting gift, the Goblin knew, the Man's final sacrifice for the well-being of others.

"Yes, I do. I want to thank you for your friendship and confidence. I fear I would not have fared even half as well without your guidance." Passersby might think this a rather unemotional response, but it was the custom of the Goblins to say private goodbyes first, and then say the formal goodbye, in an attempt to ease the passing of an individual. It was to this custom the Man had held, though it had dragged on for longer than the typical farewell. The Goblin had known this day was coming for years, had counted on losing a Friend. Despite this, he was reluctant to say goodbye to the Man.

"You have brought our Nation more wealth than we thought possible. We should be the ones thanking you." another Goblin said softly, stepping over to join the two. This Goblin was dressed in fine cloth, and had an aura of confidence that spoke about his years of wisdom. The Man, upon seeing the second Goblin, bowed.

"None of that, you are a Friend. Unlike those other Wizards," the second Goblin scowled briefly at the thought of the others, before softening slightly and continuing "you have no need to bow to me. "

"I will miss you" smiled the Man, though it was tinged with sadness. He glanced outside, it was growing dark. It was very nearly time for him to go. He turned to the Goblins, seeing the same expression of sad understanding on each face (though perhaps most Humans would not be able to see anything but an indifferent mask).

"I need to leave, the moon rises before long." He paused when he reached the doors, held back by concerns and memories of the past. The Man hesitated, before turning back to the two Goblins who stood silently watching. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get the words out the Goblins had answered his questions.

"Do not worry; we shall always endeavor to protect her in her times of need. No harm will be able to come to her on our watch. " the second Goblin said, taking advantage of the Man's pause.

"Her vaults will never cease to flow, you have my solemn oath that the children shall be provided for." the first Goblin added.

"Thank you both, my Friends. There are few others I would trust the school to." the Man replied. He was touched, truly, that they had known his greatest fears and had assuaged them. He placed his fist over his heart and then extended his arm, his palm facing up*3. This gesture was the highest form of respect in the Goblin Nation, and the Goblins returned it with practiced grace. With that, the Man turned on his heel and left. Both Goblins knew that they would never see him again.

"He truly means to sacrifice himself to protect the school?" the second Goblin stated more than asked of the first.

"Of course, you know how he is Ragnuk, he loves those children dearly. He would do anything for them. I suspect he also wishes to keep his friends safe too, despite all that occurred between them." The elder Goblin sighed. The Man had far too many burdens in his life, and the betrayal of his friends was one among many.

"I never did like them much, especially that red-haired menace. He stole my sword!" Ragnuk spat. Then he quieted, and his next words were somber. "We have lost someone of great value this day, and so has the world. I hope that one day they will see that. Now, I don't know about you Grignott, but I would like a drink."

"Let's go to my office then." Gringott motioned. He paused by the main doors a moment. The poem inscribed there had been a subject of interest by the one that had just left. Once, upon asking what about the poetic warning had enthralled him so, the Man had said jokingly that he would be in dire need of the reminder in the future. The Goblin never could quite figure out what he meant by that after all these years. That particular Wizard would have nothing to fear, for he could never be a stranger to the Goblin Nation after all that had transpired.

"Goodbye Salazar, old friend." he whispered. "May you find more peace than you had in life."

* * *

The man, upon taking leave of the two Goblins, appeared silently in rocky area outcrop the foothills of a great mountain range. He walked along, idly taking in the sights of the place that he had come to call home. His cave was in a mountain that had some five years ago become the edge of three kingdoms, upon the division of the Kingdom of Navarre. One would think that there would be more traders with this confluence, but he had so far remained undisturbed, a fact for which he was eternally grateful.

Reaching his destination, a heavily warded cavern where he had lived for the better part of a decade, he let out a sigh of relief. Now he could finally finish his preparations, he had worked so long for this day. The cave was Spartan, what little he hadn't put into the Vaults of the Goblins he placed in a warded trunk tied his person by blood Magick_*4_. He hurried into a makeshift potions lab, and there gathered up the simmering potion and necessary components for what he was about to do. He took one last look around the cave where he had fashioned himself a living, and satisfied that everything was in order, vanished without a sound.

He reappeared on the eastern slope of Beínn an' t-Samhainn, The November Mountain_*5_. It overlooked the grounds of Hogwarts Castle, where his heart truly remained even after all these years. From the first time he saw the majestic castle at age 11, to rebuilding it from ruins and war twice, to being exiled from it, to this point now, nothing had seemed to him more perfect. He was home, and this time he wouldn't be leaving.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he began to set up around the perimeter of the wards. He had no time to waste, and began his race through the forest, finding the great Wardstones and carving into them a series of runes he had devised specifically for this purpose. He drew on all the knowledge he had gained from his mentors and the Goblins, along with a fair few of his own discoveries too, to set up this project. The foundations were laid years ago, but that was before he was evicted from the castle. He silently berated himself, he needed to focus now; he dwelled on the past for far too long. Once he had finished carving the runes, he traced them again in his own blood.

Now came the most difficult part, he needed to sneak into the castle itself. He stood again on Beínn an' t-Samhainn, this time scanning the grounds for any who might see him and sound the alarm. Most of the students would likely be inside enjoying a feast if they had not been tucked into bed already. Not the ones who ran the castle though, he was sure they would have extra precaution tonight. It was October 31, and they would be waiting for him. He would need to be fast if his plan were ever to succeed.

He Apparated into the castle right in front of the offices that were guarded by a pair of gargoyles, which gave him a suspicious look as soon as he appeared. As soon as he landed he threw up a slew of Wards that would not affect his ritual in any way. Then he began to draw the outlines of the runes onto the stone floor and the walls. The Gargoyles by this point had alerted the others of his presence, but he couldn't afford any distractions. He removed the potion which until this point had been in magical stasis, and added a tuft of Thestral hair, willingly given. This turned the potion a brilliant white, and he had to close his eyes for a moment against the sudden onslaught of light. He could hear footsteps, and he hurried to finish before they stopped him.

He gripped his favorite dagger (coated with an anti-coagulant and a slow-acting poison) and made a shallow slice across his wrist, letting it drip into the potion. As the blood mixed into the potion, it shifted to a molten silver color. There were hexes being thrown at the barriers he had set up, and he accidently sliced his fingers on the dagger after a particularly harsh assault. Unheeding of the pain, he dipped his hand into the potion, and the silver and red mixed together as he traced over the runes he had drawn. The potion could no longer change with the addition of the extra blood; he had made it resistant to any form of altering once it was completed.

A woman screamed at him, but he paid her no mind. He finished tracing the runes and stood, pushing a little magic into the barriers that were left standing. Of the five he had quickly established, only two stood now between him and them. He began to chant, pouring the rest of the potion around his feet as an anchor to the castle. He willed the runes he had traced around the perimeter to respond, to be linked by the blood flowing in his veins. A ward fell down, one left now, but he couldn't stop the ritual to fight them off.

He willed his life to sink into the ground and seep into the water, to permeate the air and filter through the trees. He begged the castle to accept him in this, and as he began to feel the stone beat in time to his heart, he felt the last ward fall. With a final push of magic, the life of one Wizard was forfeit, but he was not completely lost, for he lived on in the very core of Hogwarts, and he went on protecting her with his magic and life.

There was a flaw in this plan though, and as the ritual had made the castle a sentient being she was the first to spot it, and the one to eventually take advantage of it. The others had not noticed a single set of runes set on the cardinal points of the circle surrounding the man, and that would eventually lead them once again on the paths of destiny. In their haste, they had forgotten the principle rule of rituals is to never interfere, and indeed they thought they hadn't. They had arrived too late to stop the man after all. Just after the final ward protecting the man fell, and just before the ritual was complete, a foot fell just so as to slightly smear the rune.

None of the three could be much bothered to look at the single broken rune though, for they were staring at the corpse in the middle of the hallway. There lie Salazar Slytherin, Founder of Hogwarts Castle. More than that though, there lie Salazar Slytherin, a friend whom they had not accepted as he accepted them, a friend whom they banished for seeking alternative means of protection, a friend whom they betrayed without thought. A friend they hadn't seen in years, and would now never make amends to.

"He truly was the greatest of the Hogwarts Four." A woman dressed in blue whispered as she surveyed the area, quickly taking in that the ritual was designed to protect Hogwarts with his life. She was crying silently, trying her hardest to deal with the situation first and deal with the grief later, but all she could feel was numbness down to her core. Her husband, a tall red haired man dressed in red, came up beside her and drew her into a hug. He looked lost, and he hesitated briefly before speaking his farewell.

"We do not deserve it Sal, but if you could find it in your heart to forgive us. We forgave you a long time ago for what happened, it was never your fault. You just had bad luck and timing in things, but you've had a knack for finding trouble since the day we met. Please Salazar, go in peace. You deserve it more than anyone." his face was shadowed by the moonlight, set still as stone and aged far beyond his years. His eyes came to rest on the body and he sighed.

A third person, a ginger woman with yellow robes, sat catatonic near Salazar. She blindly reached out to touch his face, and then with a scream that startled the other two, she began hurtling hexes toward the wall, tears streaming down her face. The man restrained her while the woman forced a Calming Potion down her throat.

"Oh how we have failed him so." The woman sobbed brokenly, before slipping off into sleep as a result of the potion and emotional exhaustion.

* * *

Rowena Ravenclaw had spent weeks secluded in her library, pouring over every second of memory and her tomes in an attempt to recreate the ritual. She began the potion early in December, having collected a sample that night and tested it. Despite her going over the memories numerous times of that night, it was Helga who pointed out the single rune.

"Did you see that? The rune on the end was broken. The entire ritual could have been thrown off! He might be brought back somehow!" Helga said as they left the pensive again after once more revisiting their memories. It was difficult for her to watch this over and over again, so she tended not to focus on Salazar and kept her eyes cast downward.

Rowena and Godric looked at each other, clearly feeling Helga was reaching for a false hope, but decided to humor her anyway. Once more, they entered the memories stored in the pensive, keeping a close watch on the circle of runes this time. Sure enough, they saw the rune altered, a single tiny line becoming lost as the edge of Godric's boot came down upon it. They withdrew slumping into conveniently placed chairs, and each remained silent for a time, before Godric spoke quietly.

"The rune was Oak, and by stepping I transformed it into Ash_*6_. I am no expert on Runes, I only know the names. What could this mean?"

"It means, it means…" Rowena trailed off, fetching set of parchment rolls from a corner and plonked them down upon the desk, shuffling through them until she had found what she was searching for.

"Oak is a symbol of purity, nobility, and strength. I would guess that Salazar must have anchored the layers of protection to this rune to make them last. Ash is…" Rowena looked up, tears in her eyes.

"Ash is associated with renewal, or resurrection. In theory, he could still be alive." Rowena let this statement sink in for the others, and continued on her own line of thoughts. She grabbed a fresh sheaf of parchment and began to scribble out the formation before and after the rune was altered. The others watched in silence as she worked frantically, mumbling under her breath as was often the case when she got like this. They knew better than to interrupt her. She finished and looked up at Godric and Helga, smiling triumphantly.

" I think he may have been saved. It is actually very likely, considering everything." Rowena stated. They might have a shot at seeing their friend again if her guesses were correct!

"How could it have though? There are perhaps a hundred runes in this circle, and many Oak and Ash scattered throughout. I've used those runes before to keep nightmares away from children*6, where you place them does not much affect the outcome of the ritual as long as the number remains relatively balanced. That's why I can use that ritual for my little cubs; it's one of the few runic rituals I'm adept in. Why would altering one rune save him?" Godric hated to be the voice of doubt, but he could hardly dare to believe that there was still a chance that Salazar was alive after all.

"Look, the rune altered was outside the two rings, on one of the four points. Altering _those_ runes affects the whole scheme very drastically_*7_. Thankfully Oak and Ash are both protective runes, and as you said rather interchangeable. But still, Ash gives us the hope of Life." Rowena replied. The silence seemed to last forever, but eventually the spell was broken as Helga stood,

"I'm going after him." Helga said defiantly, a fire burning in her eyes.

" We don't know if this ritual will actually work..." Rowena began.

"**I **am going after him, Rowena, with or without help. No force on this earth will be able to stop me or change my mind! Is that understood?" Helga had raised her voice, and the land surrounding the castle seemed to quake in anger. Realizing this, she restrained herself, and looked once more to her friends.

"I've spent too long a time away from him. I betrayed him and my heart for so long. I cannot simply let this opportunity pass by. If I linger I will surely die of grief, I cannot bear to lose him without trying just once more to find him again._ Please." _her voice cracked on the last word, and Godric and Rowena looked at each other, silently coming to a decision.

Rowena glanced out the window, it was snowing outside. The weather had been unusually warm. The first flakes would come just in time for Christmas too. Nobody deserved to suffer during Christmas. She and Godric had circled around to face Helga. They raised their wands.

"Obliviate."

* * *

Hogwarts was a battlefield; the raiders had come once again. Despite the protective Magick on the castle, the invaders managed to find a way in; the unrelenting tide of forces was beginning to take its toll even on the Founders. Even with the aid of Hogsmede, many had already been lost, giving them little hope to cling to. Even the students joined the fray, and those that were too young to fight had been hidden in the dungeons and given the task of preparing medical supplies. There was one young student however who had decided he would be more help fighting outside the confines of the dungeons.

Haldor Hufflepuff, grandson of Helga Hufflepuff, was thirteen. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, he had trained with his grandmother and Godric and Rowena for some time now; he could handle himself in battle! They would not take his school, nor hurt his family! He hid behind a pillar, quietly shooting off spells on the wizards who dare come in uninvited. Distracted as he was, he didn't notice the shadow behind him, and jumped as a hand fell on his shoulder. Startled, he whirled around to see Cenhelm Sauvage, his Potions instructor. Haldor relaxed slightly, he knew he could trust his professor

Cenhelm Sauvage was a unique man. One would not expect to see someone so loud and so brash become the Head of Slytherin House after the quiet and enigmatic Founder was exiled. However, despite appearances he was trusted implicitly by not only the Slytherins, but the whole school, as a counselor and confidant. They knew it was him who got rid of Hankerton Humble, who was the previous caretaker and Head of Slytherin House. Nobody knew what happened to the man, but it was rumored that and Salazar Slytherin himself had taken it upon themselves to dispose of the man that was secretly abusing the students. From that day since, he had been the Slytherin Head, and had an extremely sharp and perceptive mind underneath all of his chaotic behavior.

"What brings you out of the shelter of the dungeons, Haldor?" the man asked, casually flicking his wand at a knot of invaders nearing the front doors and throwing them against a wall.

"I want to fight! I've been training, I can help!" Haldor exclaimed heatedly, sending a rock towards another wizard and tripping him into a spell sent by his professor. Sauvage had cut the man's arm off. Haldor's eyes widened and Sauvage caught his attention.

"A battlefield is no place for you young one, leave the killing to the adults today. Go and protect the students. They just might need you yet, should the defenses be overcome. Go, Haldor, quickly!" Cenhelm Sauvage had shouted the last of this, catching sight of a break in the line of the defenders. The invaders, Vindicators_*8_ by name, surged forth. Cenhelm pushed Haldor back towards the doors of the castle, paused to make sure the child had actually left, and then rushed towards the incoming soldiers.

"Good to see your fighting skills haven't waned any, My Lady." Cenhelm called, smirking as the disheveled but otherwise unharmed Helga Hufflepuff appeared on his right, pushing back the forces with him.

"Nor yours, Sauvage." Helga panted beside him, loosing another volley towards the invaders. She had just chased down a number of Wizards that had decided sneaking around to the back of the castle would be a better tactic for breaking in.

"There are too many of them, at this rate they'll be in the castle by the end of the hour." Helga hissed to Cenhelm as they stood back to back, striking down any that got too close.

"Then let's give them something to remember us by." Cenhelm grinned at her, and as one they turned and ran directly at the enemy.

Arrows came whistling through the trees, the Centaurs had arrived to protect the school. Some came galloping through the fray, slashing through the dark army while the archers covered them behind. At the same time a battle cry rose up as legions of Goblin Warriors appeared on the shores of the lake. Fiercely they threw themselves into battle, swords and hammers and axes meeting flesh and armour on the field. In particular, the invading forces were cut down in a wide swath around a single Goblin with two Bladbochts.

"Where is he?" Rowena asked Godric, scanning the grounds for the leader of the Vindicators. She raised her hands in a sweeping motion and fierce winds whipped out against the army, relieving them of wand and sword. She was careful to let her magic affect only the enemy.

"I don't know, but I have a feeling something else is going on." Godric murmured as he sent flames towards a particularly dense knot of the invaders. A loud crack interrupted further conversation, the stone wall was beginning to crumble, and fighters were rushing into the castle. Godric leapt into action, sending a wave of magic at the entrance before turning back to Rowena.

"You alright out here?" he inquired, looking at her. They knew that even with the reinforcements it would take a miracle to save them.

"Of course, Beloved. Go get them." Rowena kissed his cheek before turning back into the battle and striking down the enemies with force. Godric had already made it to the damaged part of the wall, and was taking down most of people trying to breach Hogwarts. Neither looked back.

Hogwarts was doing her best to keep out the nasty people that wanted to hurt her children. The Magick that Salazar had used was extremely useful. Most of it was making sure the students in the dungeons were completely undetectable, but it was working to weaken the invaders and strengthen the magic cast by the protectors. They were outnumbered, and Hogwarts knew this, and she was afraid.

There were people wandering her halls, and they were too close to the dungeons. They would find her children! She shifted to protect them as best she could. She put all other distractions out of her mind. The others roaming her corridors would be taken care of soon enough, she knew. One man did draw her attention. He was alone, and evil. He was headed towards Salazar's hidden chambers. How did this man know where they were? She was about to see what this man was doing when she was drawn back to the dungeons. The enemies were trying to knock down her walls! No! She focused all her efforts into maintaining the walls and forcing back the ones that attacked her children.

The man slipped into the Chamber of Secrets unnoticed. He had important business that needed to be done. His fool of a father was too weak, too much in love with the half-wits and Muggle lovers that ran this school. In all, he was glad that his father was dead, but regretted that he was not the one to do it. The old man had killed himself, he knew. Most likely in one of his grand schemes to save people. Ridiculous. The man continued through the chamber until he got into the main chamber.

He located a hidden entryway between the pillars halfway into the chamber. He dared not go to the end, where the Basilisk resided. That stupid serpent would be loyal to his father only, he knew. At least he had managed to put it to sleep the last time he was here. He also got rid of that carving of the Hogwarts crest above the snake's entrance. Now it was a much better carving of his mentor's visage, as an honor for the wizard. A year after he had completed the carving his mentor had been killed by his father. No, Salazar Slytherin was his father by blood only. His mentor had been his true father.

Sylvester Slytherin never forgave, and he never forgot. He smiled grimly and began to work. He would leave his legacy here so that one day his children might finish the work he started. He doubted the Founders themselves would be able to track him down now. They would never reach his children, and they could never be rid of his legacy.

Even the bravest warriors would have shrunk away in fear at the manic laughter echoing in the chamber. As it were, the man was alone in the Chamber and left to cackle at his discretion. That is, until an explosion rocked the core of the castle, and the man had decided he had lingered long enough. He resealed the Chamber on his way out, emerging into the empty corridor.

"Retreat! Back into the castle!" Helga cried as another explosion shook the earth. Goblins and Wizards alike swarmed inside the stone walls while the Centaurs stayed outside and slew many who tried to get into the doors. Rowena was sweeping through the corridors of the lower floors, and Godric was defending the hole blasted into the wall near the Transfiguration room.

Helga tore through the crowds, being careful not to catch her allies in her warpath. She threw a dagger into the eye of a man that was about to curse one of the older students. The boy, a Ravenclaw in his Seventh Year, gave her a grin of thanks. Distracted, she didn't almost notice the body hurtling towards her; she sidestepped quickly, but slipped on a pool of blood.

"Careful, my Lady. The floors are a wee bit slick tonight. We'll need a mop later." Cenhelm teased as he prevented her from falling with a steadying hand on her elbow. She knew humor was the way he dealt with stressful situations, and did not begrudge him for making jokes at a time like this.

"You can start on that right away once we've gotten rid of these vermin." she parried quickly, and she caught his grin as he spun around to face a new foe.

Rowena and Godric met at the wall that had been blasted in. The area was thick with people, but it seemed to be more defenders than enemies at this point. Rowena quickly levitated the rubble around the area to fill in the gap, while Godric took care of any remaining Vindicators still inside the castle. Through the window, they could see most of the Vindicators heading towards the front doors. Rowena reinforced the area with her magic, and then turned to Godric.

"It looks like they've abandoned this spot and reconvened at the front with the rest of their fighters." Rowena said wearily.

"Yes, let's get to the Great Hall and give the others a hand, shall we?" Godric smiled briefly at his wife before they both ran down the corridors, eager to drive out the Vindicators for good. It wasn't long before they reached the main throng of fighting, and they once again launched themselves into battle, determined to protect that which they held most dear.

Sylvester Slytherin was always one to take opportunities when he saw them. He had chanced upon a lone student wandering around, seemingly trying to help in the fighting somehow. Oh, and this child would be the Founders undoing. Salazar had been this boy's protector the last time the youngster had met with the Vindicators, Sylvester knew. He moved his wand violently, and ahead the boy fell to the ground screaming. He took his pleasure for a few moments before immobilizing the young wizard and levitating him towards the Great Hall and the heavy fighting.

A hush fell over the battleground inside the castle as Sylvester Slytherin came into view with a young boy floating at his side. Helga turned to see what had caused the fighters to go suddenly silent and her heart stopped. Sylvester Slytherin, immaculate and standing proud, was grinning insanely. He had captured a student. Someone she knew very well.

"Haldor! NO!" Helga screamed, looking at the man who had her grandson in his grip, a knife at the boy's throat.

Godric and Rowena looked at the leader of the Vindicators trembling with anger. How dare he threaten their students, their family? Helga quickly moved over to join them, looking equal parts wrath and fear. They could only watch as he moved into the center of the Hall, protected by his allies and unable to be fired upon because of the young boy immobile in his grip. He ran a hand across Haldor's cheek and pressed a kiss to his temple, before turning to face the Founders.

"Hear my terms, or this precious boy here will pay the price." Sylvester drawled, emphasizing the threat by pressing the knife into Haldor's throat enough to draw a thin line of blood.

"It is hardly our practice to negotiate with a man who spreads terror across the land." Godric looked at him condescendingly. Salazar had pounded political tactics into his head for years, and Godric was certain Sylvester had inherited his charm, for he could hardly have remained leader of the Vindicators had he not. Unfortunately for them Salazar's heart and compassion had not also been passed along. Sylvester Slytherin was an intelligent and charming man, and that made him all the more dangerous.

"You would rather the boy die then, than simply listen to me for but a moment?" asked Sylvester in a faux innocent tone. _Yes_, Godric thought, _he certainly is capable of putting on a show_.

"I would rather you leave us in peace, but we cannot always have what we desire, now can we?" Godric replied tersely after a moment. He would have to be very careful in how he played this little verbal spar out, or Haldor could die. He wished Salazar was here to advise him, though he was unsure about how well the Founder would have fared against his son in this battle. _Salazar would have had too much heart in him to believe that there was no good left to salvage in Sylvester_ Godric mused, _which is probably why he chose to stay away from the Vindicators for so long_.

"Indeed, I should think not. Surrender the castle and I will allow you and all the others to leave unharmed. I shall not actively pursue you, and you could have your peace." Sylvester proposed. The Founders could definitely see Salazar in him, but it was twisted and warped by darkness. It wasn't the same darkness that Salazar had worn wrapped around him, shrouding him and adding an air of mystery to the Slytherin Founder. Sylvester had a blackness that seemed to permeate his very core, and the Founders came to the conclusion at once that Sylvester would not stop his campaign of terror until he was dead.

" Hmm, but the price for peace? Would you continue to run a school tainted with your vile influence? Would you turn out those sired by Muggle parents, leave them defenseless or worse, kill them? What would be the consequences of your so-called _peace_?" Godric knew he had to stall for time. He had seen Cenhelm out of the corner of his eye, silently moving into position to take down Sylvester Slytherin from behind. It seemed though, that so had Sylvester, and he motioned for several of his guards to grab Cenhelm.

"Is this how you treat a guest, my Lord and Ladies?" Sylvester asked. One of the wizards holding Cenhelm gasped as a dagger was thrust into his side, courtesy of the struggling professor. Sylvester impassively nodded at the others trying to keep Cenhelm contained, and they quickly and sloppily drew a jagged knife across his stomach, and dropped him as he lay bleeding onto the ground. He managed to kick at one of the guards and knock him off his feet.

"How dare you come into our school, kill our friends, and then make demands of us!" Godric roared, losing his temper with the scum who called himself a revolutionary leader.

"Wrong decision I think, my Lord. You should have been more welcoming to us, if only for the children's sake." Sylvester drawled condescendingly. With casual disregard he pressed the knife deeper into Haldor's neck. The Founders tensed.

"I think I shall give you time to reconsider. I will leave you with two parting gifts, shall I?" Sylvester smiled and dragged the knife across the boy's throat before turning to leave, the rest of the Vindicators following their leader. A few small skirmishes broke out again as Rowena and Helga rushed to Haldor and Cenhelm. Godric ran after Sylvester, chasing him past the moonlit grounds and nearly into the forest. He almost had a clear shot…

"Sectumsempra!" he cried, and watched the leader crumple to the ground. The rest of the Vindicators scurried away from their fallen leader in their haste to get away from the wrath of Godric Gryffindor. He spent a few moments gazing down at the man, who lay slowly bleeding into the grass. Godric shook his head; he looked eerily like Salazar had after an incident in the sparring grounds once. He released a killing curse and then set the body alight in quick succession. It was only after the flames died down and he had calmed a bit that he remembered what happened in the Great Hall. He cursed and sprinted back to the castle.

Rowena met him at the doors, and gave him a hug so strong that he almost feared for the state of his ribs. She had been crying.

"Cenhelm was dead by the time we got to him. Haldor…Haldor was alive, but we couldn't save him. I found traces of a blood thinning potion in his system, along with a spell that would resist all magical attempts at healing." Rowena said quietly.

_How did it all come to this?_ Godric thought numbly as he and Rowena went back inside to begin burying the dead and cleaning the halls of the remnants of battle.

And so it was the New Year began bathed in blood.

* * *

Helga Hufflepuff kneeled alone in the Great Hall with a bucket of hot soapy water and a worn rag. _This blood will never wash away _she thought as she scrubbed. Her hands were rubbed raw, and they cracked and stained the water crimson as she rinsed the rag in the water. _This blood will never wash away, this blood will never wash away, will never wash away, will never, never…_

"Never, Never, Never, Never, Never."

She never noticed the two figures hidden in the shadows. They left silently to continue on with their plans. Helga would be furious with them, of course, that they had taken her memories from her. However, seeing her hopeless like this made them realize that they had to try, not only for her sake, but for theirs as well.

* * *

Chanting arose from inside the stone corridors. Three focused their powers into the runic circles around them. They had made all preparations for this moment, had been planning it for months.

Three fell lifeless to the ground, taken on Beltane much as their friend had gone on Samhain. Life and Death, being opposite from each other and in essence the same thing, must always come together. With Life there was Death, and so as the Founders died they would live again.

Far into the future, the threads of predetermined paths began to unravel and weave themselves anew, and so it was that their destinies lie within their own hands. Fate no longer had the claim upon them, and it would be the Founders who choose their ultimate end.

* * *

**Notes (and lots of them too): **

1 Tons of capitalized terms in here. Man, Friend, Goblin, and Nation are all capitalized because the context they are being used permits it. With the Goblins, these terms are used as proper names or titles for someone, and so as you would capitalize King when speaking to him but speak of the kings of old so too do the titles come into play. I have capitalized most of the Man and Wizard terms in this sense because the Goblin Grignott is thinking over the years with the Man whilst he is present and therefore is referring to a specific person, hence the capitals.

2 After attempting to, for authenticity's sake, track down the mysterious language of Gobbledegook (which is probably not even the proper name for the language in the tongue of the Goblins, but is what Wizards have termed the language) for words that I could use in this story, I found one. _Bladvak, _as mentioned by Ludo Bagman, means "pickaxe". So to the ever available Google Translate I went, perhaps not the best source for accurate translations, but it provided what I needed nonetheless. The root of _Bladvak_, being _Blad_ means blade (among other things) in a number of other languages. _Vak _meant box in Dutch and Afrikaans, and so it was to them I went to as the basis of the Goblin language, with smatterings of other similar languages (the North Germanic ones: Norwegian, Danish, and Swedish. Dutch and Afrikaans are technically considered West Germanic languages, though North and West share many roots and writing conventions.)

To form words I translated the English term I was thinking of into the various languages, choose the harshest sounding synonyms (usually ones a little further out of use), and if necessary combined the roots of several of the words into new Gobbledegook. In the Goblin tongue Gobbledegook shall actually be called _Svartaal_ (From Swedish _Svar_, meaning response. _Svart _in Swedish can mean black, or under–the-table, which is a possible explanation for the origins of the language, an adaptation to keep the authorities or clients unaware of specific dealings. Dutch _taal_, meaning language). I will provide the meanings of the terms as well as the etymology behind them at the end of each chapter.

_Blacbocht – _Medium length double sided blade, slightly curved, similar to sabres. They are often wielded in pairs. Gringott prefers the Bladbocht over any other weapon in battle. _Blad – _blade, North and West Germanic languages_._ _Bocht_ – curve, Dutch.

3 I actually got this gesture from a Star Trek episode. In season 2 episode 11 (Friday's Child) of The Original Series, Doctor McCoy makes this gesture as a sign of respect to the Capellans. He says "We come with open hearts, and hands" when he makes the gesture. The Capellans are a war-like group of people, and so I thought the gesture seemed fitting, as Goblins seem more war-like at least in the books, though this notion could easily arise from poor Goblin-Wizard relations. If you want to Netflix the scene it occurs within the first 3 minutes of the episode. I tried looking for it via Youtube, but I couldn't find the scene. You could also go here watch_episode/_1kxRrzFBStv as long as you don't mind sitting through the possible advertisements. Don't mind the cheesiness of the costumes and sets either, remember it was made in the late 60's with an extremely low budget.

4 Magick, merely a deliberate archaism, will be used to represent the old and powerful spells and protections and charms, as opposed to what most Wizards use daily, which is magic. Magick will be closely associated with the Hidden Arts (called in the future Dark Arts, for their roots in sacrifice) and the natural energies of the land.

5 Beínn an' t-Samhainn is actually a place on Loch Shiel (which featured as the Black Lake in the films) I used this . /place/Gaskan_Wood_in_Highland_292611_ to determine where everything was. Hogwarts castle is sort of located between the two sets of trees and near the lake. If you trace down from Glenaladale you will find the bare patch of land, or if you zoom in it is right where Torr a' Choit is located. Quite a few of the trees had to have been trimmed away in the future, and the small stream that you can see if you zoom in (Next to the Jetty and Camas Cròm) is actually the tunnel that leads under the castle in the Philosopher's Stone. Almost directly across from the mouth of the Glenaladale River is Rubha Allt na Slabhruidh, and it is on that outcropping of land that Hogsmede will be placed.

The shape of the lake is more artistic. Loch Shiel is really too big for the story to work (the carriages would have to go an awfully long way to get to Hogwarts without crossing water. So for convenience sake the castle is very near to the western edge of the lake, and the carriages go through a small part of the Gaskan Wood and past Beínn an' t-Samhainn to get to the school, crossing over the Glenalade River with a bridge, which is a much more likely scenario. J. K. Rowling drew the Black Lake relatively small in her map, so that's what I went with.

The position of the forest is not consistent with her map (the East), but rather the fact that the sun set directly over the forest in the Philosopher's Stone, placing it west of the castle. The Forbidden forest will extend all along the western side of the castle grounds, but it will be thinned out right next to the lake, so as to allow the safe passage of first years and carriages. The forest to the south could too be considered dangerous, as could the Gaskan Wood. All I think would be considered forbidden, but the actual Forbidden Forest itself, the most dangerous part, is the coniferous section lying just west of the castle.

As for Beínn an' t-Samhainn, the closest (or most fitting) translation I could finds was The November Mountain, _Beínn_ meaning mountain in Scottish Gaelic, and _an' t-Samhain_ (one n only) meaning The November in Irish (via Google translate). I may or may not have twisted it to suit my purposes, but it made me excited, especially since Samhain is the Celtic festival of the dead and the precursor to Halloween. Thus there was the connection to not only the night Harry Potter was attacked by Voldemort, but also the possibility that special rituals involving death should be done on Samhain, for it was when the doors to the Otherworld opened. I've decided that Beínn an' t-Samhainn would have been an important place of Magick, and it is this source that Hogwarts draws upon to sustain the wards. More will come on this subject, and the history of the mountain will be explained in further detail in a few chapters.

6 You can find these runes on Wikipedia here: wiki/Anglo-Saxon_runes, if you look at the runes meaning Oak and Ash you will see they are only a line apart from one to the other. I got the meanings by doing Google searches of the meanings of Oak and Ash (as in the trees) and going from there.

_I:_ Also, Ash is used often in protective rituals because of its natural energies. It was considered a guardian of children and as such used to treat childhood illnesses. I transferred this along to nightmares, a common childhood affliction. People of the time would have blamed evil spirits for them, and so would have likely turned to Ash and its properties in order to protect their children.

7 I don't know very much about runic magic circles to be honest. I made this bit up, but it seems somewhat logical. The image I had in mind was that outside there were four runes at cardinal points and inside two concentric circles of runes. Seems like a pretty big deal if you alter one of the four outermost runes. In my mind at least, it made sense.

8 More information on the Vindicators later on in the story. Just know that in this point in time Sylvester Slytherin, Salazar's son, is their leader. The Vindicators are a cruel and ruthless group, but their history and beliefs will be explored in coming chapters. To vindicate means to justify or free from blame, which is where I got the name.


	2. Times Unknown and Unseen

So apparently I hadn't actually started to post the original story "The Life I Once Lived", but I mentioned it in my profile. That makes me upset because I still like that title. Oh well, rant over. I don't own Harry Potter, blah blah blah, too much research still, but significantly less, blah blah blah. I fell really sarcastic and slightly evil today, kind of like Crowley, but that's a different fandom.

Anyway. Love those who read and reviewed, keep it up. Many thanks are given and my cat will be renamed, because Tipsy is a bit dull now that I think of it.

And now for something completely different…

**Chapter 2: Times Unknown and Unseen**

I have seen many things happen in my life, too many. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had I not accepted the world they offered me. Perhaps things would have been different. Would the war have lasted so long? Would those children have died if I made a different choice? Could they have been saved?

Part of me wants to believe that no, this war was inevitable, but I find it difficult to accept. There has been too much devastation and death around me to be counted as coincidental. I am ruin and ruined. Everything I touch either crumbles to dirt or drowns in blood. Dust and rust.

Yet here I am, still living, though I loathe calling this life. Am I doomed? Have I always been? I think yes, perhaps this has been my fate all along. Forever cursed to relive my greatest sorrows. Perhaps I can take this opportunity to start afresh.

At this point, it's the only thing giving me the strength to live.

* * *

It was just after 3 o'clock; the air was slightly brisk, but warmer than was typical of the end of October. A slight breeze rustled through the treetops and dislodged their colorful leaves. In all it made for a rather pleasant day, likely to be one of the last before winter came. Most people were up and milling about, but there were some exceptions. Harry Potter, Chosen One, Vanquisher of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Defeater of Dark Forces, Hero of Hogwarts, Man-Who-Lived-Twice, and all around Good Chap, was snoring.

This in itself was an extraordinary occurrence. Harry Potter was not a person to whom sleep came easily, and if his rest was not plagued by nightmares or visions, then he slept lightly enough to not snore. Perhaps in this instance he might be forgiven, he had been conducting a sustained raid on former Death Eaters homes and hideaways for weeks, and the last three days had been spent clearing out one of the manors they had located. Indeed, Harry Potter had felt he had earned this sleep; he had gotten through processing the manor on two thirty minute naps, a slew of Wake-Me Charms, and over a dozen cups of detestable coffee which despite the taste did serve to wake him up.

Other people had other ideas about where Harry should be though. Namely Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Ginny Weasley, who were extremely concerned for Harry ever since the war had ended just a few weeks ago. They had noticed Harry withdrawing from society, only ever leaving his solitude to go out on raids like the one he had just finished. They were understandably worried that Harry had still not told them much more information than what everyone heard in his verbal spar with Voldemort, and that his secrets were weighing him down.

So they decided to pay him a visit in Grimmauld Place, which now looked more open and inviting thanks to Kreacher's dutiful cleaning and Harry's ability to blast down walls. It seemed he had changed the whole layout of the house, and was beginning to furnish it with modern décor and appliances. He had even managed to somehow incorporate electricity into the house, something which seemed impossible with the amount of magical warding on the place. The three stepped over the threshold cautiously. Harry had taken to experimenting with defensive wards, and one never knew what to expect with him.

Harry had even withdrawn from them, though he still kept in touch fairly often. They had respected his wish for privacy, though they wished he would come to them for support. Still, they wanted to make sure he was alright today, because it was October 31. While most would be swept up in celebration Harry Potter would be going over all his regrets if they knew him well enough. Hopefully, they would be able to pull him from his brooding and get him to rejoin society again.

"D'you think he's gone out somewhere?" Ron asked quietly as they peered around the seemingly deserted manor.

"We can always check. Homenum Revelio!" Hermione cast the charm and the familiar swooping sensation washed over them. It pegged one magical signature in the house as belonging to a wizard. Unfortunately, it had also set off the wards that alerted Harry to intruders. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were promptly knocked off their feet and suspended upside-down in what they could only guess was some form of magical netting.

Five minutes later, and after a suspicious and bleary-eyed Harry Potter had interrogated the three of them, they were sent to the ground in a tangle or arms and legs. After standing up and brushing themselves off, they turned to Harry. They gaped incredulously as he shrugged in response to their questioning glares.

"You couldn't have let us down gently or anything?" Ginny asked sardonically. Harry stared blankly at her.

"I hadn't gotten around to that part yet. I didn't think I would need to. Can I go back to sleep now?" Harry mumbled.

* * *

After they had extracted a promise from him that he would let them come back for dinner ("A late one!" Harry had interjected at this point, eager to get some more sleep) the three left. Hermione and Ron went to go grocery shopping for later, and Ginny decided to stop by Gringotts bank. She was the only one of the four who could really enter into the bank right now without causing major political fallout. So it was up to her to access their vaults, even though the Goblins scowled every time they saw her. She was very careful not to say 'dragon' or 'stolen' or 'damage' anywhere near the bank. She collected enough gold to last them awhile; she didn't make trips to Gringotts too often if she could help it.

Ginny went out into the alley and made her way to a small shop tucked behind the bank. She had happened upon it by chance after not paying attention to where her feet took her after a particularly stressful day with the Goblins, and she went any chance she could. The tiny shop always had intriguing trinkets on sale, and usually at decent prices too. She had picked up a set of four cloaks that adjusted to the specific needs of the wearer at a bargain the last time she visited, and they were now the necessary component of any outfit she, Ron, Hermione, or Harry put on. She knew Harry had also visited the shop numerous times after she had showed it to him, and hoped she could find something to distract him tonight.

She had emerged from the shop with only one item. She had found an ornate clock in a dusty little corner. The clock was held suspended in the middle of its stone case, and the top had a slight depression, most likely for some kind of scented oil or incense. It was, according to the shopkeeper. completely harmless. Five-hundred years of magical experimentation had apparently done nothing to it. She felt it was safe enough to even give to Harry, who seemed to be able to do the impossible with ease. She wrapped it and waited for dinner that night.

* * *

Dinner was surprisingly mundane. No explosions, no squabbles, and Harry seemed to be more animated than he had in months. When Ginny had given him the clock he had lit up, immediately setting to work on it with a fierce grin that would have severely disturbed anyone else. He had invited the three of them to spend the night, and Ginny suspected he knew that they would spend their time worrying if they couldn't keep him in sight. He was in the study experimenting on the clock while they went to the guest bedrooms and tried to get some sleep.

Harry had seen many things that held secrets, and he was sure this clock was one of them. He could just make out some scratches on the stone that could have been runes, but they seemed much older than the clock itself. It was almost as if the stone they had been carved from had runes already on it. He could see a hairline crack at the bottom of the clock. He pulled slightly. _There_ he thought triumphantly. He pulled a small drawer out of the bottom of the clock and found it full of…

"Sand?" he muttered, bewildered. He began casting a slew of magical spells at it and found it to be surprisingly normal, though there were traces of some sort of potion on it. _Strange_ he thought, absently tipping the sand onto the top of the clock on a hunch. Nothing happened. Why would someone put a bunch of sand into a secret drawer in a clock? Who had made the clock, and why? He walked to the window and opened it, hoping the night air would clear his thoughts.

Harry was still really tired. He hadn't managed to fall asleep after his friends first visited in the afternoon. He dozed off with his head resting on his hand as he stared at the clock. A small breeze ruffled his hair from the open window as he snoozed peacefully. Unfortunately for Harry Potter his sleep was about to be disturbed again, this time by his face smacking against his desk as his hand slipped. He cursed and stood up, reaching for a box of tissues on the corner of his desk. His nose was bleeding.

A few drops landed in the depression on top of the clock, right on top of the sand he had dumped in there earlier. Harry paused with the tissue held up to his nose as the clock started to glow and make a strange humming noise. It felt very familiar, like it was welcoming him home somehow. In the background he dimly noted Hermione and Ron rush into the room, followed shortly by Ginny, who had muttered something along the lines of knowing better than to underestimate his penchant for trouble. He summoned his friend's belongings, and double checked that he still had his on him. With a flash the four disappeared from Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

A few hours later a confused Kreacher went to bring Master Harry breakfast and discovered his he and his friends had vanished. There was bit of dirt on the floor in Master Harry's study, and Kreacher unquestioningly swept it up before closing the window. _The mess must have blown in last night sometime. Perhaps Master Harry would like some Treacle for lunch_, Kreacher thought to himself, _yes that would do nicely._

* * *

Harry Potter fell to the ground hard. He tried to get up, but was trapped by a heap of arms and legs and a pointy elbow to his ribs. Stifling a curse he rolled away from the chaos and stood, looking over just in time to see his friends also extracting themselves from the pile. After being assured that they were only a little bruised, he quickly healed his nose and brushed himself off. He took the opportunity to glance around, and he sucked in a breath. He certainly hadn't expected the sight that greeted his eyes.

In place of the interior of his study was the outside of a building. Though it was dark out her could tell that it wasn't the grimy exterior of his house with its cracked pavement and dilapidated front lawn. No, it was an almost equally ramshackle pub of some kind, so run-down that only the Hog's Head looked worse for wear. He looked to the other buildings and found them in a fairly similar state, though the pub was definitely the worst of the bunch. There was nothing electronic to speak of, and Harry would have thought they were in some sort of Wizarding community, but even the Wizards were not this dated.

Harry blinked at this unexpected turn and decided to cast a specific locator spell on himself. The spell was typically used by adventurers to determine their location and then find where they were on magical maps. Harry had needed the spell on a few raids he was in, and he had also tied in an emergency Portkey (or three) to his house. He had the coordinates of the places he visited frequently memorized. The coordinates that showed up told him he should have been in his kitchen which was, when he thought of it, directly below the study and would account for the long fall.

"How can we have not moved at all?" Harry muttered to himself.

"How can we what!" Hermione exclaimed, overhearing Harry's comment. This caused Ron and Ginny to panic slightly, and they turned to him for an answer.

"I've just cast a coordinate spell on myself. We should be standing inside Grimmauld Place. We haven't moved at all, well, not horizontally anyway. We are directly below where we would have been standing in my study. That spell has never failed before, and I've got the coordinates to my house memorized…" Harry explained to Hermione and the others.

"Well obviously something is wrong. Recast the spell." Hermione said. Harry followed her suggestion and tried the spell twice more with the same results. The four stood still, shivering slightly for the first time as they noticed a slight wind that brought with it the first hint of winter.

"Why don't we get out of this chill? Let's head into that pub and try and find a place to stay for tonight. We can figure out the rest tomorrow when we have something more than moonlight to work with. Do we all agree?" Ginny finally asked, looking around at the others.

"I'm fine with that; we might be able to get some food too!" Ron agreed happily.

"When are you not hungry Ron?" Ginny smiled, sharing an exasperated look with Hermione.

* * *

It had been fairly straightforward for getting a place to stay for the night; the most difficult part was the language, which Hermione solved with a very quick translation spell. The barman was just as grimy as his pub, but he told them about an inn just down the road that would take late-night visitors, and wished them luck. A couple of Sickles got two rooms for them to stay the night. Harry had been concerned that the innkeeper wouldn't take their money, but the man just looked at them and asked if it was pure silver, and then let the matter rest after that.

The four were gathered in the pub they first asked directions from, figuring it would be good to give the man who helped them out a bit of business. Before they had left the inn that morning Hermione had peered out the window to see what kind of clothes people were wearing, and transfigured them something appropriate. Once they had eaten and were comfortable settled in the corner of the pub away from potential eavesdroppers, Hermione broached the subject none of them wanted to discuss.

"So Harry proved we hadn't moved at all spatially, but our surroundings have completely changed. The language and the clothes and everything else we've seen suggests to me that we may have traveled back in time." Hermione said all of this in a rush, knowing an outburst was likely to follow. Everyone was silent though, and they all agreed that was the case.

"What I would like to know is what the bloody hell Harry did to get us back here. Where exactly are we anyway, time-wise I mean?" Ron asked, looking towards Harry for the answer. Harry cringed slightly; it was his fault they were stuck here. How they were supposed to get back, he did not know. Somehow he doubted he would see modern-day England again for a long time, if ever.

"Well," Harry began slowly, trying to delay the inevitable; "I suppose it began when I was looking at the clock. I found a hidden drawer in it, and there was some sand in it, nothing really. I put the sand into that shallow basin thing in the top. Nothing happened. I guess I dozed off because the next thing I knew that clock started humming and then we were here."

"You left something out." Ginny declared, very sure in herself.

"I haven't lied about anything." Harry started abruptly, only to have Ginny interrupt him again.

"I know you didn't lie about anything, but you haven't told us everything either. I know you Harry Potter, and I know when you are hiding something." Ginny finished gently, but the stern face she had on meant he was in a world of trouble if he didn't start talking soon.

"Well, you see, when I dozed off I was sitting upright. Then I might have slipped and hit my nose on the edge of the desk. I may or may not have reached over the desk to grab a tissue, a perfectly normal reaction for a bloody nose, you know." Harry defended his actions.

"Go on then, mate. What happened next?" Ron sounded far too amused at his expense, Harry thought rather sullenly. Then he thought about it and smirked, of course it would be his luck that something like this happened. Honestly, he should have been expecting it earlier.

"Some of the blood may or may not have landed on top of the sand, which may or may not still have been on top of the clock in that depression. That was when the humming started." Harry decided it was best to get it all over with at once, like ripping a bandage off.

"Did you check the sand before just dumping it on the clock at least?" Hermione sighed; not at all surprised at the trouble he had gotten himself into.

"Yes, I did actually, there were traces of a very old potion, and I mean very old. It should have been so weak that it didn't affect anything. I was surprised I could pick it up to be honest. Adding my blood to it should have made no difference whatsoever." Harry explained. Of course his blood would have been able to trigger this reaction from an otherwise normal clock.

"Obviously something happened. Let's not worry about that for now though. We need to figure out, as Ron pointed out earlier, exactly when we are. We should take stock of what we have and what we need, and then we need to find a way to get back, if we can." Ginny pointed out.

It turned out they really didn't have anything very useful to the situation with them, except for the magical cloaks that Ginny had given them. They all had a few changes of modern clothes which weren't going to do them a lot of good in this time period. Harry had his magically shrunken trunk full of books and potions, as well as all of his research on various pieces of Dark Magic or obscure artifacts recovered at the Death Eater's homes. Hermione had a few books with her in an attempt to learn the convoluted laws of the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures. Ron had his broom and a couple books Charlie had lent him on some of the more dangerous creatures of the magical world, including one about the various species of Dragon. Ginny thankfully still had their gold from Gringotts, and she also had a couple of potions for minor ailments. The four sighed collectively that had nothing to help them get home, and also no food or permanent shelter to speak of. They stood and left the barman a generous tip, before heading outside to face a chilly November morning.

The four split up, and Harry immediately set out to find the nearest market. They had agreed that the best way to find out exactly what time period they were in would take a lot of careful eavesdropping. Harry figured that if it was anything like the modern day that shoppers would be a wealth of information. He could also pick up a few things along the way.

The market he found was rich with colors and scents off all things foreign. There was also an air of discontent among some of the shoppers, about the Vikings and the Danegeld paid to them by one King Æthelred*1. One of the women passing by said that her husband had run off with a young girl in the next town, and that she hoped 998 would be better for her. That would make this the year 997 then. Harry smiled, they now knew when they were, time to get some shopping done.

Harry returned to the pub, their predetermined meeting spot, two hours later. He was a few Galleons lighter, but he thought the investment well worth it. He had bought numerous fine fabrics, heavy enough to keep them warm in the winter and comfortable enough to wear daily. They would need to rely on something other than transfigured clothes soon. He had also picked up a map, which was a bit pricey but well worth it, he thought.

Ron it appeared had found a different shop, one with weapons. He had swords and daggers and a bow with arrows. Hermione looked exasperated when she caught sight of him happily examining his prizes. Other people were giving him odd looks as he swung a sword about, and hurried away without making eye contact.

"Only four Galleons for all of this! I've got some more things shrunken and put away too. A mace even! How cool is that?!" Ron was practically giddy with excitement.

"I've done some research, and I went to where the Leaky Cauldron would be. The portal still exists, so I went inside. The alley is a lot sparser than in the future, and I don't think Gringotts is even important yet. However, there was a small bookshop of sorts, and I bought what little I could find. Books are very rare, you know, without mass printing. I asked the man who ran the shop if he could get anything more, and he said my best bet would be to marry into an old family if I wanted access to more spells. Apparently they keep the magic they know somewhat secret, hidden in their family Grimoires. Magic is less about spells and more about talismans or enchanted objects in this time." Hermione finished, almost as excited as Ron was over his new weapons. Ron, meanwhile, had gotten a sour look on his face when Hermione had mentioned the shopkeeper said she should marry into an old family. Harry shook his head at how ridiculous those two could be.

"Where's Ginny?" he asked suddenly, noticing she had not yet arrived. Right on cue she appeared, laden down with what appeared to be travelling supplies. She had several bags slung over her shoulders and was carrying a heap of blankets, and balanced on top of them was a plant of some sort with purple flowers.

"Is that sage?" Hermione said in surprise when Ginny had gotten closer to them. Ginny smiled and nodded as she carefully handed the plant over to Harry. After tucking away the rest of the supplies into one magically expanded bag, she took the plant back and carefully set it down in another bag.

"I picked up the sage and a few other plants from a side stall. It's not like we have medicine right now, and I figured we'd be stuck here for awhile. Might as well get the supply situation sorted now, right?" Ginny stated, looking around at the others.

"Good thinking. How d'you suppose we'll get home?" Ron asked, focusing his attention on Hermione at this. She bit her lip and frowned.

"I don't know. Maybe if we knew what exactly that clock was, but…" she faltered slightly, uncertain. Harry jumped in at this point.

"Let's figure that out later. We need to find a suitable way of living in this time, not just camping out wherever we can find. In order to get information we're going to have to integrate ourselves among the people here. Then we can work on getting home."

The four ended up staying in Diagon Alley or Obliquus*2, as it was also commonly known in this time. For a time they just sort of explored and observed, but one afternoon Ginny told them that earlier she had met a woman who was willing to take her on as a student. Ginny would learn Herbology and Healing from her. Hermione and Ron had immediately launched into a search for instructors, but Harry was content to wait until he had more time to figure out his plans.

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had contacted a wizard who was quite willing to teach them defensive magic and help them out with money and supplies in exchange for help managing his store. Hermione had found a man who was very good in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and she had also found a witch who was skilled in transfiguration. Ron would also be leaning transfiguration from this witch, but he had also sought out a Muggle who would teach him to fight using his weapons. The others had invited Harry to their lessons, and while he sat in on a few he stayed relatively uninvolved. He was tracking down the trail of an obscure wizard who was supposedly very good at what he did, but also very paranoid.

His search led him to shadier parts of the alley, especially the area where Knockturn would eventually exist. He found many interesting things there, but there was really no trace of the elusive man. All Harry had to go on was his name, Travers, and even those were just rumors. Harry was almost to the point of giving up. He was only a few weeks behind the others, he could easily catch up. Perhaps it was for the best anyway.

It was cold, and a few flakes were falling from the sky. Harry was just about to head inside a bookshop to get out of the cold when he noticed a cluster of wizards slowly marching down the street. Curious, he paused, watching them shuffle through the snow. He turned, deciding they seemed harmless enough despite their odd behavior when one raised his wand and caused the windows to shatter inward as he launched a spell at one of the shops. The others took this as their cue and they began casting in force, causing explosions and fires.

Harry had his wand out and was taking down the wizards in an instant. He could hear screaming, he knew there were children in the alley. The group of attackers had noticed their new threat and began to focus on him. Someone ran up next to him and began to drive the attackers back alongside him. The wizards sensed that their plan was falling apart, and fled, but not before Harry and the stranger had inflicted serious damage on their ranks. The whole fight had only lasted a few minutes.

Harry turned to face the man who had helped him, to find that he was on the receiving end of a very strange look. He was about to thank the man when he grabbed his arm and dragged him down the alley. Harry was about to protest very sharply when the man cut off his reply.

"I'll explain, but not here." The man whispered, jerking his head at the people who were starting to emerge from the buildings and survey the damage.

The stranger was taller than Harry, but not by much. He had clear brown eyes and dark hair that was peppered with silver strands. A faint white scar ran across his cheek, and his nose appeared crooked, as though broken and improperly healed. More than that though, was his commanding presence, and Harry found himself unwilling to do anything to get on this man's bad side.

They stopped and Harry was pushed none too gently into a very decrepit building. The man ushered him into a chair and made them a pot of tea before sitting himself. The man stared oddly at him, and while Harry was used to all sorts of attention there was something different about this man. He felt like he was some sort of creature that was about to be dissected. It was sort of like the feeling he got when Dumbledore would look at him sometimes, but less grandfatherly and more dangerous. Finally, the man broke his gaze to focus on the window instead.

"You fought well out there. How did you do that?" the man asked quietly.

"I have fought plenty of people like that. Seems like half of my life." Harry snorted a little bitterly, but tried to hide it with a smile. The man picked up on his action nonetheless.

"You are young. Where would you learn such impressive magic, some of which I haven't seen?" he said, peering suspiciously over at Harry, who fidgeted slightly at the look.

"Here and there I guess. Necessity forced me to learn things in order to survive." Harry knew he was being deliberately vague, and he had a feeling the man knew that and was becoming frustrated with him. Suddenly he felt something slam into the weak mental shields he had managed to construct, and he gasped. He strained to keep this stranger out of his head, and when the stranger withdrew as he began to reinforce his mind Harry stood and trained his wand on the man.

"Who the hell are you?" Harry growled, leveling a glare down at the man. To his consternation, the man simply smiled and took a sip of tea before answering.

"I'm sorry if that upset you, but I had to make sure you weren't and assassin sent here to kill me or working on the part of those raiders. My name is Malcolm Travers, and I hold Masteries in Defensive Magic, Charms, and Potions. How would you like to study from me?" the man, Travers, smiled up at Harry.

This had been the man he was searching for. For over a month now he had been chasing down rumors and false trails to find him. And they had met by chance. _Figures_ he thought looking at the man who was still waiting for an answer. Harry sighed, sinking back down into his seat a little warily.

"Where do we start?"

Truthfully, the work he did could have been likened to an apprenticeship of sorts, though according to Hermione the practice would not be in full use for a few centuries yet. Harry had found shelter and a mentor in exchange for his labor. He considered this a fair trade, and worked diligently to please him. Harry was surprised by how quickly he and Master Travers had built up a trust, despite of paranoia on both sides. Harry found himself telling the man things that he couldn't tell his friends for fear of burdening them. Surprisingly for a man so seemingly dangerous he gave good advice, and Harry absorbed all the knowledge he could from Master Travers.

Master Travers had, upon noting how abysmal Harry was at fighting with weapons, enlisted the help of Rayner, a man seasoned by more than a few battles in his time. He was close to a Squib in magic, but had never let that deter him from anything. Rayner had an extreme dislike of titles, and Merlin forbid the consequences if Harry ever called him Master again. _That_ particular experience had been far from pleasant.

Rayner was a kind man if one got to see beyond his gruff exterior. Harry learned very quickly however that Rayner was not one to suffer fools gladly. He found this refreshing though; Rayner pushed Harry past his limits every day, and he was already showing great improvement in his fighting. He was been taught how to fight with various weapons including the arming sword, the Seax (a type of knife), and the self-bow. Harry's yew bow was not quite the length of a Welsh Longbow, Rayner had told him, because he was so short. Harry had scowled at this, but the bow had a good range at any rate*3.

"No, no, no! You never want to take a low guard. Strike from high, the guard of the hawk *4. Like this, you see? Well, don't just stand there child, do it!" Harry hefted the broadsword above his head with two hands around the hilt. Learning from both Master Travers and Rayner was certainly not what one would call an easy task, but he was learning he would have never dreamed of before. Rayner interrupted his thoughts by sweeping his sword near Harry's feet. Harry jumped backwards and nearly tripped over a loose stone.

"Stop dallying about and pay attention for once! Make sure you are in a proper stance, not locked up like some fool who would keel over at a single blow! Keep an eye out for your surroundings! Understand?" Rayner shouted.

"I understand Rayner." Harry replied respectfully. He really did need to stop reflecting on things when Rayner had a weapon in his hands.

"Good, now let's go again. Attack!"

The Danes were conducting raids along the coastline, and several of the smaller villages were looking to London for help. Harry and the others were not sure how much assistance the Muggle government could provide for the villagers. The Danish mercenaries had turned on the king and were causing havoc as well. Then there was issue that not all of the raids were conducted by the Vikings. Whoever had been in charge of the magical raid that he and Master Travers intersected was getting bolder. Thankfully, the number of magical attacks was still relatively low, but the fact that they used the Viking raids as a cover worried Harry. As Rayner had said when Harry had asked him about the subject, it takes intelligence to make it seem like you are the blameless ones. A shadow organization was the last thing they needed.

It was now late March, and Master Travers and Rayner had both been training him practically day and night in response to the increased attacks, both Muggle and Magical. Harry only ever saw his friends in passing or sometimes for a few minutes at lunches. Their instructors were doing much the same and pushing them to learn as much magic as possible. Master Travers had been teaching him to read and speak the common languages without the use of translation spells. Rayner had been teaching him various political strategies. The man had confessed after imbibing a copious amount of alcohol that his father had been an important man in the Wizarding community. Rayner wasn't too friendly about his father, and Harry never brought up the subject around the man. He was keen, however, to learn how to maneuver around the law and still be legal about it.

Currently, Harry was slowly stirring a cauldron of a strong healing potion. Harry thought the recipe might have been modified later on into a Pepper-Up potion or something similar. For now, Harry was content to do modifying of his own as per Master Travers' instructions. Harry was really starting to understand just how the ingredients folded together to create something, and how he could use the basic principles to make a concoction that could do basically whatever he wanted. Thinking back on his experiences at Hogwarts, he realized that many of the Wizarding families would have taught their children this before-hand. Things would have been much easier in Professor Snape's classes with this knowledge!

"Well done Harry. You've come far since our first lesson." Master Travers commented lightly, peering at the cauldron interestedly. Harry grimaced a bit, yes; he certainly had come far from that explosive day. Thankfully, Harry's knowledge of Defense made it possible to move those lessons farther ahead rather quickly. Master Travers had said that Harry was well on his way to becoming a Master himself in that area. That was why he was mainly working on the physical aspect and various ways to incorporate other magic into his attacks.

Time passed by rapidly for Harry and his friends. Before they knew it they had been living and working in this time for a year. They were no closer to finding a way home. Harry had confided to both Master Travers and to Rayner the nature of their predicament late that summer. They had promised Harry that they would look into it, but they could find nothing on the subject.

Hermione was apparently working on some sort of rune scheme with her instructor, but there was little progress being made on that front. Harry had even gone to the Goblins in search for answers, to no avail. In one of the rare dinners in which all four of the time-travelers were present, Ron brought up an idea that hadn't occurred to them before.

"What if we go to Hogwarts ask the Founders? They might be able to help, right?" he had asked, looking around at the others. Hermione had gasped and given Ron a kiss that made him turn crimson.

"Why didn't I think of that? That's brilliant!" she grinned at Ron.

Harry had a feeling that things weren't going to be as simple as that. Also, he really liked the life he had here. Nobody knew him and he had made friends with two unlikely men. He had come to view Master Travers as a sort of father over the year, though he wasn't likely to admit that to the man. Rayner was a mix of an estranged uncle and commanding officer. All three of them would sit together and reminisce about things, good and bad. Harry didn't want to give that up quite yet.

"Why don't we wait until we finish learning from our teachers here? I bet the Founders would have a lot more respect for someone who actually stuck around and finished their education." Harry said casually. One thing Rayner had taught him was to be subtle and relaxed when you were trying to get something done. Also, to anticipate questions before they were asked and answer them before any thought was really put into the negative consequences.

"But wouldn't it be-" Ginny started to form her question, and Harry smiled at her.

"I have a feeling that we'll be done learning in a year, at the accelerated rate we are going. What's one more year? You never know, something could crop up here that could help us. Also, there's been too many attacks lately. We will need to have a plan of safe passage to Hogwarts formed out, and the only way to do that is to pay attention to the pattern of the raids. Let's just stick it out one more year here before we journey on, okay?" Harry looked around for confirmation, and grinned mentally. He felt a little bad about using his political tricks on his friends, but he did need the practice, and everything he said was true.

The four of them eventually agreed to Harry's plan, though the other three wanted to set out in a year's time even if they weren't finished with their lessons. Harry conceded to this point, mainly because he was sure he could convince them to delay a bit longer if he needed to. For the present they collected news about any raids or robberies and asked around for the easiest routes to Scotland. They had to use the Muggle map that Harry had bought to approximate the location of the castle, but they thought they had it narrowed down fairly well.

Ginny had taken it upon herself to know and correctly identify every type of plant and animal that they would encounter so they would know what to avoid. Hermione, Ron, and Harry often badgered her for information on the subject. This soon became a tradition, and they tried to make room once a week or so to teach the others various skills they had learned. Ginny passed on essential healing skills as well as how to identify certain common plants. Hermione had taught them a few simple wards using runes, as well as how to construct a basic spell with Arithmancy. Ron, who was doing extremely well in Transfiguration, trained them how to incorporate that into battle, along with a few tricks he had picked up for hand—to-hand combat. Harry passed along some of his potion skills and how to fight effectively with knives.

A few months later Harry had asked Master Travers and Rayner about how to get to Hogwarts. He also asked if they thought the Founders could and would help them at all. Both had given him an odd look and asked him to explain. He did, somewhat warily, and they both seemed to relax after he clarified what he meant.

"I thought you might have been referring to some sort of new name the raiders came up with for a moment there." Rayner growled, sipping at his drink.

"No, I wasn't. What about Hogwarts though, could they help? Obviously I'd leave after I finish my education here." Harry was worried about the lack of immediate response to his questions. He had a feeling that something just wasn't right here.

"Harry, I hate to disappoint you, but outside your stories I really haven't heard of that school you went to. I thought it had been built sometime well into the future, after I was long dead." Rayner said, his normally harsh tone traded for something a little softer.

"No, the Founders built Hogwarts over a thousand years ago from my time. It should be in the early years of existence." Harry exclaimed, feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach. Master Travers and Rayner looked at each other, concerned. When they looked at him their eyes were full of sympathy.

"Harry…" Master Travers whispered gently, "Neither of us has ever heard of a magical school in Scotland, and believe me we would have. Hogwarts just doesn't exist in this time."

1 It's hard to find a ton of information on how people lived in London 1,000 years ago. This is set before William the Conqueror invaded from Normandy in 1066, so here's a brief overview of history before then. Southern and western England was controlled by the Anglo-Saxons. Danelaw, or the Danish Vikings basically, had control of the east and the north. The maps on the wiki pages roughly correspond to how the layout would have looked circa 1000 A. D. There was a lot of political drama at that time about who controlled what, and I will do my best to summarize that here. There's a bit of extra info, but that never hurt anybody, right?

England had a period of peace which came from the recaptured Danelaw.

King Æthelred (the Unready, which in that time would have meant ill-advised) takes control of the throne in 978, when he is only about ten years old.

Starting in 980 small contingents of Danish adventurers carried out costal attacks.

Normans, being composed primarily of Scandinavian people, occasionally sheltered the Danes after raids on England.

This causes tension between England and Normandy, and eventually Pope John XV had to help settle the dispute, with a truce of sorts being ratified in 991 in Rouen, the historical capital of Normandy.

In August of 991, Danish raiders attack the coastal town of Maldon. Despite the bravery of Byrhtnoth in defending the town, England was defeated.

England decides to pay tributes to the Danes for peace, but even with the payments the raids continue.

The Vikings attacked London in 994, but they were unsuccessful. A treaty is signed between King Æthelred and Olaf Tryggvason at around this time. 22,000 pounds in gold and silver are paid to the Danes, and the already settled Danish people have the issues with the English government worked out. Olaf keeps to his word.

Some of the Vikings who had participated in the raids decide to stay in Æthelred's service as mercenaries.

It appears the mercenaries turn on Æthelred in 997, leading to numerous raids. Eventually England again pays for peace, the term now being coined Danegeld.

In 1002 Æthelred ordered the massacre of every Danish man in England on St. Brice's Day, though it could only be carried out in about a third of the country.

Among the casualties of the St. Brice's day massacre was Gunhilde, sister of Sweyn Forkbeard. Sweyn invaded England and stayed until about 1005.

Other raids occurred in 1007, 1009, and 1012, and they were typically bought off.

In 1013 Sweyn conquers England and Æthelred flees to Normandy. When Sweyn dies in 1014, Æthelred is able to reclaim the throne.

Now as to what the city of London itself was like, well. According to my vast internet research there was a population of about 5-10 thousand, which had actually dropped a bit. There was sewage in the streets, and apparently there were tracts of farmland within the city limits. Despite this, London was becoming a center of trade because of its location at the edge of three kingdoms. I'm going to take a little bit of creative license with the buildings and such, but I'll try and keep everything as historical as I am able. The four land in what would be the present day Borough of Islington, which is in the inner part of London. For this reason they will still technically be in the "city" part of London, even landing when they did.

For more information search Wikipedia for Anglo-Saxon history before the Norman Conquest and Danelaw.

2 Why I've called Diagon Alley Obliquus. First, because obliquus means diagonally in Latin, and second because obliquus can also mean indirect or covert. This is because the alley is hidden from the Muggle world for the most part.

3 There is a ton of information on Wikipedia about the types of weapons used. I perhaps wasn't as historically accurate as I could be, and I modified bits here and there to fit. There's a wealth of information on the weapons, and I did use the proper terms for you to go and research if you so wish.

4 Inspired by the scene in Kingdom of Heaven in which Godfrey (Liam Neeson) attempts to teach his son Balian (Orlando Bloom) to fight better.

Review please, and let me know of mistakes. Also, if you want me to do a one-shot on certain scenes, I can do that too. Such as Harry's first day with Master Travers.

Eventually I'm going to put in a nice little guide in that will give a brief summary of the characters as well as timeline. I'll wait until There's a couple more chapters though.


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